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slytherinsnekxvii · 2 years

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let's say snape did ask voldemort to spare harry potter, and, by some miracle, doesn't get cursed on the spot. what then?

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..." the hag hisses in Severus' memories, dragged to the forefront of his mind by the Dark Lord's consuming, imposing power. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..."

He stumbles backward as the Dark Lord releases him, jabs a heel into the ground to force his body into stillness. The contact is good, grounding. He is here for a purpose, and he will not make a fool of himself before the Dark Lord.

"I know of the prophecy already, Severus," the Dark Lord says, patiently. Indulgently, really, and it is glorious. To be treated with this level of respect by the Dark Lord himself... Mulciber must be eating his hat, and Potter, Black and their little pets rolling in the graves that surely awaited them. "Your having delivered it to me is the reason I have deigned to offer you both my Mark and your choice of reward."

"Of course, my Lord," Severus says, "and I thank you for both."

He flexes his arm at his side, already branded by skull and snake, half scabbed-over, before bending at the waist in a deep bow.

"Rise," the Dark Lord tells him, and Severus catches the amusement in his tone. "Lucius tells me you have great potential, and I believe you will be... most useful to me."

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus says, reverently, and squashes any further daydreams of spitting on pureblood ponces and grinding headstones beneath his boots. He needs to be clear-headed for this. He hardly presumes to be indispensable, but the Dark Lord has named him useful, has promised him a reward. This opportunity, this sort of power, the sort of respect that he would be able to command as one of the Dark Lord's trusted and used... it cannot—must not—be squandered.

"Have you chosen, Severus? Money, glory? Women, perhaps... no. You look above such things, do you not?" The Dark Lord's face twisted at that, a fleeting smirk setting itself across his unsettling features. "Ah. Knowledge is what tempts you... yes. Unadulterated, uncensored knowledge. You could have the contents of the most coveted Dark Arts libraries in your hands. Power the likes of which most people could never dream of. What will you ask of me, Severus?"

His tongue itches to answer, but the Dark Lord continues.

"I do not make a habit of granting requests such as these. Your brethren who have earned the privilege have asked for banal, plebian things or they have pandered to me with silly trinkets and petty refusals. Will you follow in their footsteps? What will you ask of me, Severus?"

The Dark Lord lowers his gaze, ever-so-gentle, presses into Severus' mind once more. A smile flits across his face as he skims through each layer of thought, memory and consciousness, tugging and pulling as he chooses. He snags something, holds tight to it, and Severus is overcome by pure, blinding rage as his life, shown in flashes of humiliation, pain, anger, anger, embarrassment, injustice, so much anger, plays out before him.

"Revenge. Yes, that must be it. You want them to pay for what they've done," the Dark Lord. "That filthy Muggle father of yours, those disgusting blood traitors, yes, all of them will pay. Is that what you would ask of me, Severus?"

The Dark Lord holds his mind in a vice grip, tight, harsh, painful. Had it been a physical hold, Severus would no doubt have been nearly to his knees at this point, gasping for air, begging and prodding at his Lord's arms to allow him to go free. It is entirely within his own mind, however, and with regards to Occlumency, Severus is particularly resilient. As the Dark Lord pries and clutches, his eerie red gaze fixed on Severus' own black stare, he calls to his mouth the words he will answer with, but is silenced before he can speak them.

"No. Their blood would be wasted on you. I could make you—no. No matter," the Dark Lord says, releasing him once more with all the gentleness of a hard shove. "This, you may consider a gift. I will impart to you a secret, Severus, for you have granted me the information which makes this particular endeavour possible. I am going to Godric's Hollow tonight, and I will destroy the creature that Albus Dumbledore presumes will vanquish me."

"God—"

"Silence, Severus. This to to your benefit, you understand. The child must die, of course, but that filthy blood traitor Potter—I will kill him, and through me, you may have your revenge, and thus, you will be free to ask for what else your heart desires."

His head spins, and the Dark Lord cares not, fixing him with a burning red gaze that grows ever impatient.

"What will you ask of me, Severus?"

He can think of a million things he wants, a thousand things that would catapult him into the life he wanted, without having to claw his up from beneath everyone else's feet.

Power, for one. Respect, esteem, the Dark Lord's favour.

He could ask for any of them, he knows which of them he would choose.

The memories crowd his mind, though, unbidden, shaken free by the Dark Lord's rough handling of his innermost thoughts, his mentioning of Godric's Hollow. He doesn't even need to close his eyes to see her. Lily, laying on the grass beside him. Lily, sitting next to him in the Library, laughing over something or other as they breeze through their Potions homework. Lily, turning him away at the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Lily, turning her back on him for James fucking Potter and his band of assholes.

Another thought chases them, even more unwanted and unexpected than its predecessors—Lily, body broken and cold, dead on the floor of her home between her husband and child, because of course, of course, she would throw herself between her family—James bloody Potter and his fucking spawn—and the Dark Lord himself.

He cannot ask for her life.

It would be madness. Folly. An impossible request that would follow him for the rest of his time in the Dark Lord's service. He will not squander this opportunity, he will not ruin this for himself as so many things have been ruined before, he will not lose his only chance—

The Dark Lord looks at him, and Severus anticipates the rustling, the grip of thought on his mind and quickly, quietly buries it all, as he blurts, "Lily."

Severus Snape is a fool.

The Dark Lord knows this now. He must.

"You desire... the girl?" the Dark Lord asks.

Severus must be an imbecile. A thrice-damned, hellbound, cotton-brained dunderhead.

"Very well," the Dark Lord muses. "It would be a fitting addition to your revenge. From what I have been told, she was your Mudblood first, was she not?"

Severus nods, mute.

His?

Never. Not really.

"I shall spare her life, and you will have her."

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus rasps, the words bubbling up through a dry, dusty throat, and automatically falls into a bow. He is a fool. "You are too kind."

"Kind..." the Dark Lord rolls the word around his mouth, and spits it as though it is particularly vile. "Hardly. It is only what you deserve."

"Thank you, my Lord." Severus says, and turns to leave.

"You were not dismissed, Severus," he says, and Severus turns back, immediately.

"I'm so—"

"No matter, and straighten up. Tell me, Severus. You think me kind?"

He swallows. "My lord is most generous—"

The Dark Lord stops him, regards him with what little humanity remains in his gaze. Laughs.

Severus stiffens, the hairs on the back of his neck raising at the grating sound.

"Join me. Tonight. You will further prove your usefulness, and kill James Potter yourself. I will spare your precious Mudblood her life."

His stomach rolls in protest at the thought, conflicting thoughts flying through his mind, a cacophony of "She already thinks the worst of you," playing against a backdrop of Lily Potter cradling the bodies of her dead husband and son. Guilt wells up in his throat, swimming up his oesophagus just the same as bile, and he says, "Yes, my lord. Thank you, my Lord."

Petty refusal, the Dark Lord had said, but such was never an option. Severus had sold his soul, and the devil does not bargain. In exchange for Lily Potter's life, he must kill her husband and give up any hope of ever being a good man in her eyes, and the Dark Lord knows it.

Kind, Severus had said. A foolish notion.

They enter Godric's Hollow that night with a bang. Quite literally. The Dark Lord laughs in the face of their wards, and Severus surveys them with pity, and mild disgust. Were they meant to be found? Then, the Dark Lord crows about having their Secret Keeper under his thumb, and the Potters' lack of security becomes an afterthought to betrayal and lies and a sick sense of satisfaction that the Marauders had fallen apart, after all.

The Dark Lord gestures, and even through the smoke, Severus' aim is impeccable. His wand arm raises, and hatred is on his tongue, propelled by years of humiliation and pain, the memories of hanging pantsless above the Black Lake and watching Lily Evans on James Potter's arm, and then, dragging up truly Unforgivable magic behind them. He's already mouthing the Avada behind his mask when the green light floods the room and the Dark Lord finishes Severus' sentence for him.

James Potter's body drops to the ground and as Severus sees the Dark Lord standing triumphant, wand held high, he knows that Potter was never his to kill. The Dark Lord gave, and the Dark Lord took away. Generosity? A pathetic trait to attribute to him.

"Stand aside, girl," he rasps, and Severus' neck jerks. Lily stands between them and the crib, tears already welling in her eyes as she looks frantically between them and James fucking Potter.

The vision plays behind his eyes again, Lily, sobbing, crying, bereft.

Her husband has died and she will not stand aside. Severus knows it. If it will save her son's life, she will sacrifice herself over and over again.

"Stand aside," the Dark Lord commands, again, and he raises his wand to kill her, if not to toss her aside and Severus, because he is a fucking fool, who cannot stand to watch the girl who was once his best friend die, interrupts.

"The child, my Lord," he rasps, and hopes in his heart that if he does not succeed in convincing his master that they are both deserving of life, she will take the brat and run.

"It must die!" the Dark Lord screams, and Lily does not run, she scrambles to the crib, clutches the child to her breast.

"It has power—" he tries, but the Dark Lord will not be reasoned with.

"To vanquish me! It is—" the Dark Lord hisses, wand raised.

"A weapon!" Severus cries, and damns the boy as he has damned himself. "To use against Dumbledore, if he has power to vanquish you, he can be used against—"

"Dumbledore."

It is this that gets through to him, but he does not lower his wand. He flicks it, deliberately, as harshly as he does anything and the child comes speeding into his arms, wailing ever louder. Lily dashes after him, but a deliberate swish of the Dark Lord's wand sends her careening into Severus instead.

He looks into the brat's face, and Severus' breath catches in his throat as twin emerald gazes announce their upset.

Lily's is trained on him as she struggles in his grip, and he needs her to stop, stop fighting, stop kicking, stop making herself a fucking target, so he says, quickly, quietly, harshly, "He'll kill you both if you don't stop."

The baby stares defiantly at the Dark Lord, wailing and screaming as much as he dares. He lowers his wand. Lily stops struggling.

"Yes. You... you can be used. Dumbledore believes that you will be my downfall... but not if you are raised under my hand."

He laughs again, and the sound nearly sets Lily to fighting afresh. Severus clutches her tighter, and the Dark Lord turns to look at him again. "Come."

#severus snape #lord voldemort #a little bit of lily #a tiny bit of harry #even less james #very much au #and the consequences would be pretty insane tbh #yes ik i need to update my other fics but the idea was enticing okay #will i write said consequences?#mayhaps #fic #hp fic #death eater severus snape #harry potter #maybe i will write the consequences #or a version where james survives and that cancels out the life debt #hmmm

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averagewriter-inthedark · 3 months

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Me & The Devil P.1 🌘| Harry Potter Imagine

Set during Order of the Phoenix to DHP2

Harry Potter Masterlist | Part 2 Here

Characters & Pairings: Black!Sister reader x HP characters (platonic)

Content Warnings: death, violence, profanity, angst, slight cannon divergence, mentions of torture and blood, set during the book timeline of the 1990s | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no

Premise: Everyone has light and dark inside them. That’s what Sirius told Harry that night in Grimmauld Place. It was how one chooses to act that sets the stone of who they are as a person. It’s something Harry has to remind himself when he encounters Sirius’s cousin, the youngest of the Black sisters, Y/n. After 14 years in a cold, dark cell, Y/n’s accepted she no longer believes in angels. And the Devil himself wouldn’t want to cross her

Note: this is part 1 to a 2 part imagine where I had the idea that Sirius had another cousin, Bellatrix & Narcissa's youngest sister who has quite the age gap between them and was forced to become a death eater but has no loyalty to either side since both failed her. Part 2 should be out later this week so i hope you enjoy this!

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The floors of 12, Grimmauld Place creaked beneath Harry’s shoes as he entered the room at the end of the staircase he had been following Hermoine and Ron down. What drew his attention in the first place was the wallpaper. A green based mural branching out in the form of a tree. As Harry got closer he made out the portraits embedded into the wall, as were their names, birthdates and date of death if they’d passed. Some areas were black, covering up the picture seated above the name.

Harry flinched back upon notice of the house elf, Krecher, nestled inside the room. He mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out, then said, “Harry Potter. The boy who stopped the Dark Lord. Friend of mudbloods and blood traitors alike.” Unsure of what to say, Harry just stood looking down at the elf in silence. “My poor mistress--.” A loud voice cut him off.

“Kreacher!” It belonged to Sirius. “That’s enough of your bile.” Waving a finger, he dismissed the elf. “Away with ya!”

Clasping his hands, Krecher lowered his head, “Of course, Master. Kreacher is pleased to serve the Noble House of Black.” He stalked off and away from the two. Passing Sirius on his way out.

Entering the room, Sirius gave an apologetic look, “Sorry about that. He never was very pleasant--even when I was a boy.” There was a slight pause, “not to me.”

Surprise took over Harry’s face, “Wh-wha-you grew up here?”

“This is my parents' house,” his Godfather explained, “I offered it up to Dumbledore as headquarters for the Order.” A hand trailed the edge of the doorway, “About the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” Dark eyes landed on the mural, seeing it was the object of Harry’s attention, “This is the Black family tree.”

Sirius couldn’t help but land his gaze on the branches depicting his cousins. Andromeda’s was burnt out, much like his. The only cousin he was still fond of.

Well…..she wouldn’t have been the only one.

For Narcissa, under her name was Lucius Malfoy, with a branch leading to their only son, Draco. Sirius’s eyes narrowed on the one beside Andromeda’s.

“My deranged cousin,” Harry picked up on the distaste in his tone. Following Sirius’ gaze where it landed on the portrait of a young woman with wild curly hair and high cheekbones. Bellatrix. Beneath her name was Rodolphus Lestrange. “I hated the lot of them.”

Looking past the next portrait, though Harry caught his posture stiffen when his eyes glazed over it, Sirius maintained his composure. Focusing back on his hateful family, “My parents with their blood mania.” Raising his hand, his fingers brushed over the blackened spot where his face once laid. Sadness laced his voice, “My mother did that after I ran away. Charming woman,” his arm dropped back to his side. “I was sixteen.”

Part of him wanted to question his Godfather’s reaction to the portrait, but knew it wasn’t the right moment. He was curious. Especially since the name was unlike the other members of the House of Black. Like Narcissa, she wasn’t named after a celestial body or constellation.

Frowning, feeling the hurt radiate off Sirius, Harry instead asked, “Where did you go?”

“To your dad’s. I was always welcomed at the Potters,” A small smile curled on Sirius’ lips as he glanced over Harry. Kind eyes the boy had grown accustomed to. “I see him so much in you, Harry. You are so very much alike.”

The next few minutes involved Harry confessing to Sirius his connection to Voldemort. Voicing concern of the possibility he was turning into him. Sirius assured Harry he was a good person, who’s had bad things happen to him. Followed by educating the boy on how everyone had their own angels and demons. Light and dark. Good and bad. How the only thing that matters is what part people chose to act on.

The entire time Sirius explained this to Harry, he thought of the portrait behind him. Almost like her painted eyes were boring into the back of his head. Reminding him of how he failed her. Much like everyone else in their family.

Once good. Turning bad due to the odds against her.

Maybe there was still some good deep down. Sirius prayed so. But the chances of him ever discovering were about as slim as convincing the Minister Voldermort was back.

“Sounds like you know from experience,” Harry said aloud, eyes trailing to the portrait behind Sirius. The one he noticed him trying to avoid. Yet managing to show how deeply this relative affected him.

Sighing, the man turned on his heel, staring at the portrait. No longer able to visibly hide his emotion as he read the name Y/n -- 1967.

“My cousin, Y/n,” his tone lacked malice compared to when he spoke of Bellatrix. “The youngest of the Black sisters. My aunt and uncle were shocked to learn they were expecting a fourth child--nearly twelve years after they had Narcissa.” Fingers brushed over her name, smiling softly as memories surfaced in his mind like a film. “Drove her parents wild with her energy. I was eight when she was born, and as I got older she’d follow me around the house. A little shadow if I must say.” Harry heard him chuckle to himself, “one summer I brought her to meet your father and Remus--didn’t tell her mother mind you. I nearly met my end at the hands of Druella’s wand when we returned that night.” It was as clear as if it were yesterday.

Young 14 year old Sirius with Y/n, aged six at the time, on his hip as they made their way to Diagon Alley to buy sweets she was not allowed to have. She instantly fell in love with James and Remus, as did the boys adore her. She was so different from her older sisters--who had graduated Hogwarts ages ago and were off with their own lives. Meaning the child was alone majority of the time with only the house elves tending to her. Her father worked and her mother did the bare minimum. That’s why Sirius would visit her often. To make sure she was okay. Y/n clinged to Sirius like a puppy. Much like that day where she begged to go with him to meet his friends. She wanted to explore the outside world her parents isolated her from.

Y/n didn’t display the blood mania her family was known for. And when her parents would preach it, the girl kept her attention on her dolls and drawing pictures with her crayons Sirius had smuggled her. The older cousin prayed she’d never turn out like them. Only he knew with the tensions of a certain Dark Wizard making rounds in London, Sirius feared for Y/n’s safety. And sanity. Especially after overhearing Bellatrix’s plans to begin teaching Y/n the dark arts before she entered Hogwarts.

If only Sirius took her away. Brought her to the safety of the Potters like she wanted. “You can’t leave, Sirius,” she cried, the now eight-year old grasping his pant leg to prevent him from leaving the house. Tears painted her chubby face. It broke his heart to see. “Please don’t leave me here--I-I’m scared of them. P-please, cousin. Take me with you!”

Oh how he wanted to. If he did then he’d save Y/n from her fate. From Bellatrix. From Voldemort. But a kidnapping charge he’d surely receive by taking Y/n Black away from her parents would have Sirius spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.

A reality he’d face years later for a different reason.

“What happened to her?” Harry’s voice brought him out his thoughts. The man shrugged his shoulders to shake off the tension in his muscles. A frown painted his features.

“She’s serving a life sentence in Azkaban.” It hurt him more to say it out loud. The reality had sunk in. As though it had been a dream the past 14 years. Sirius remembered how his heart dropped when the news spread of Y/n’s imprisonment. Bellatrix’s was no shock. He’d been hoping his deranged cousin would be locked away.

But his sweet baby cousin who cried when she saw her father yelling at the house elves. That he could’ve never imagined. Even when the headline on the Daily Prophet told him the truth in big, bold letters, ‘Life sentence for 15-year-old Death Eater, Y/n Black. Cousin of notorious mass murderer, Sirius Black and younger sister of Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange.’ Sirius didn’t believe for a second Y/n acted on her own accord.

“She was never like the rest of them,” He told Harry after a moment of silence. Noticing the boy’s worried look, Sirius softly shook his head. “My cousin is a rare case, Harry. A prime example of becoming everything she hated as a result of the circumstances around her. Not a day goes by where I don’t feel regret by not being there for her. Had I been so…,” he pictured what could’ve been, “She’d likely be here with us. The Order.”

Harry pictured it too. Sirius’s tone gives him indication that Sirius still cared for Y/n. Wishing fate had turned out different for her. For both of them.

Hermoine appeared moments later to announce they had to leave. Sirius ended the conversation with a promise to Harry that when all was over, they’d be a family again. Living in Grimmauld Place in peace. With a hug goodbye, Harry exited the room, but not before catching his Godfather gave one last glance to Y/n’s portrait.

Crouched in her cell, hands over her ears like they were most days, Y/n shook from the cold wind. Willing the voices in her head to disappear. A constant battle she faced everyday since the chains were first put on her. Some of them were the distant echo of Azkaban's prisoners below. Others she was sure she kept imagining.

The first two years Y/n cried every day. By the fifth year she stopped reacting to everything around her. Once the tenth year of her sentence passed, only a shell of her remained. Staring at the wall with her hands covering her ears. The same routine. Everyday.

But today was going to be different. The voices were louder than usual. Causing difficulty to keep them at bay.

Suddenly Y/n winced with a light shriek, a burning sensation erupting along her forearm. Gaze dropping down, the ink of where her dark mark laid bolded. The feeling intensified. Y/n didn’t know how to react. Only experiencing numbness at what it meant.

A loud explosion caught her attention on the left side of her cell. Followed by the maniacal laughter of her sister. Rising from her position, Y/n’s bare feet brushed against rocks and freezing water. Rats scurried past as she walked toward where the window of her cell had been. The wind grew stronger with each step, nearly sweeping her off balance.

When she breached the area responsible for the explosion, Y/n had a clear image of the sky above her. The ocean’s treacherous waves beneath her. And dementors flying rapidly in the distance. There was no stopping the smirk from painting her chapped lips. Her eyes that were normally empty pits of nothing, suddenly emerged with an emotion unable to contain.

She was free.

It was the only thing on his mind when he read the paper that morning. Plaguing his thoughts with a newfound fear. Everywhere he went that day Neville saw the headline, “Mass Breakout From Azkaban.” Following the names of the high security prisoners freed from its confines. On the front page below the headline, moving images of two women were enough to have some of the students shivering. Bellatrix, with her wild curly hair, appeared crazed. While the woman in the image beside her was in a state of despair. Neville shuddered when his eyes locked on hers. Y/n Black.

She couldn’t have appeared older than he was now. Fifteen.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Neville turned the page to read up more on the sisters. When he got to Y/n, Neville was shocked to learn the girl had been the youngest prisoner in Azkaban in its entire history. Aged fifteen, in her fifth year of Hogwarts. Juveniles were never sent to the hellish institution. Yet, due to the nature of her crimes and association to Voldermort, the Ministry bent laws to lock her up.

Reading the summary dedicated to her upbringing, Y/n had been sorted into Slytherin House at Hogwarts, skilled in Charms, and is alleged to be an Occulmens. It’s said she failed to return to Hogwarts during what would have been her fifth year. Not long after it was reported Y/n Black had been part of the group to torture esteemed Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom to gain information on Voldermort. Alongside her sister, Bellatrix, her brother-in-law, his brother and Barty Crouch Jr. During her arrest and trial, Y/n insisted she’d been forced to use the curse for fear the others would kill her.

Which was true. Bellatrix made it clear to the young Black what the consequences for stepping out of line would be.

But it wasn’t enough in the Ministry’s eyes. Not when the other Death Eaters, Bellatrix included, testified Y/n had complied with no resistance. And so the first juvenile, the youngest Death Eater, was locked away in Azkaban. The sentence: eternity.

Now she was free.

Later that day, during DA practice, Neville found himself in front of the mirror showing pictures and news articles relating to their cause. The others saying goodbye and making their way out of the Room of Requirement. Neville, however, remained. His stare on the image of the original Order of the Phoenix. His parents.

Harry came up beside him, neither addressing the other at first. Then, after a moment of silence and confidence, Neville confided in his friend.

“Fourteen years ago, a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange and her sister, Y/n Black, used the Cruciatus Curse on my parents. They tortured them for information, but they never gave in.” Looking down at Harry, Neville added after a pause, “I’m quite proud to be their son, but…I’m not sure I’m ready for everyone to know just yet.”

Harry nodded, understanding what his friend was asking of him. Swearing to secrecy. “We’re gonna make them proud, Neville. That’s a promise.”

The Hall of Prophecies was dark. Eerie. The only light emitting from the group's wands and orbs lightly glowing in their stands. The group had rushed to the Ministry upon Harry’s vision Sirius had been taken hostage by Voldemort, tortured into telling him where the prophecy was. They were in for a shock when they arrived.

Sirius wasn’t there. Neither was Voldemort.

It was Neville who alerted the boy of the glass orb dedicated to him. Grasping it in his hand, the voice of Sybil Trelawney echoed through the silence, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not…..and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives….”

“Harry!” he turned to his friends, finding them frozen as they stared at the figure approaching. Harry pushed past, standing in front of the group. The figure was masked by a silver face, cloaked from head to toe.

A Death Eater.

“Where’s Sirius?” Harry questioned him,his wand raised.

“You know you really should know how to tell the difference between dreams…..” the man removed his wand from a familiar cane, waving it in front of his face to remove the mask. Revealing none other than Lucius Malfoy. “And reality.” Everyone tensed, anxiety starting to consume them. “You saw only what the Dark Lord wanted you to see. Now hand me the prophecy.” Harry stood his ground.

“You do anything to us I’ll break it.”

Suddenly a maniacal laugh entered the scene. Intensifying their unease. The shadow of someone behind Lucius coming toward the dim lights. “He knows how to play. Itty. Bitty. Baby. Potter.” The group’s eyes landed on the face of one of the women plastered on every front page of the Daily Prophet. Neville was the first to address her.

“Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“Neville Longbottom, is it?” she mocked with a wicked smile, “How’s mom and dad?” Lucius rolled his eyes at her antics. Neville, however, was enraged.

“Better now that they’re about to be avenged.” In a split second he lifted his want, hoping to cast a spell on the one responsible for his parents torture. Harry was quick to stop him, just as Bellatrix raised her own wand to defend herself.

“Now let’s…” Lucius slowly held his hands up. “Everybody just calm down. Shall we?” The group lowered their wands slightly, but not completely. “All we want is that prophecy.”

“Why did Voldermort need me to come get this?”

“You dare speak his name?” Bellatrix’s eyes widened, appalled by the boy’s courage. “You filthy Half-blood!!”

Again, Lucius attempted to de-escalate the scene, “It’s all right, he’s just a curious lad. Aren’t you?”

Before anyone spoke another word, footsteps from the side filled their ears. “You know what they say about curiosity?” her voice was raspy and void of any emotion. Almost robotic. Harry slowly turned his head, mentally preparing himself to face his Godfather’s youngest cousin. Beside him, Neville paled. Unable to comprehend being in the same room as the Black sisters. It was suffocating.

Y/n Black’s expression matched her tone. Numb. An empty shell was the best description. Not even reacting when Harry pointed his wand in her direction. She simply stalked toward them, finishing her riddle, “It killed the cat. But….something tells me you might be the lucky bastard to live to see it, Harry Potter.”

“Nice of you to finally join us, Y/n,” Lucius narrowed his eyes, watching her move so she was now in between the duo and group. Harry’s wand merely a few centimeters from her chest. The glowing light illuminating her face.

Comparing her to the portrait on the Black Family Tree, Harry noticed all the striking differences. Of course, nearly 15 years had passed since Y/n was locked away in Azkaban. Her baby fat completely gone, likely due from the malnourishment prison had to offer. However, unlike her sister Bellatrix and Sirius before them, Y/n did not come across as a walking corpse. Much time hadn’t passed since her escape, yet she looked healthy. Teeth white and hair silky. Nails long and painted black. Skin blemish free save for a tiny scar on her lip. She was strikingly beautiful.

Harry then remembered reading in the paper that Y/n was skilled in charms. Rumored to have created her own during her time at Hogwarts. She probably had one to alter her appearance. And considering Bellatrix looked rather unsettling, either Y/n did not offer her talent or Bellatrix refused. Judging by Y/n’s reaction to her associates, it was the former.

She ignored Lucius, answering Harry’s question instead, “Prophecies can only be retrieved by those about whom they are made. Which is lucky for you, really.” Her brow raised slightly, “Surely Sirius told you. He’d be foolish not when he knows the Dark Lord desires it.”

Backing away from Harry, Y/n turned on her heel, nudging Lucius with her shoulder causing him to groan. Focusing back on the task at hand, the blonde narrowed his eyes on Harry. “Haven’t you always wondered what was the reason for the connection between you and the Dark Lord?” He moved closer, hands still raised. It was then the group noticed more Death Eaters surrounding them. “Why he was unable to kill you when you were just an infant?”

Bellatrix trailed behind Lucius. Their associates closing in on the students. Meanwhile Y/n stayed behind, not bothering to engage. Harry caught her gaze a few times, noting how disinterested she was by the entire ordeal.

“Don’t you want to know the secret of your scar?” Lucius captured his attention once more. “All the answers are there. In your hand.” Lucius encouraged Harry with a look, “All you have to do is give it to me, and I can show you everything.”

“I’ve waited fourteen years,” Harry said, aware of the approaching footsteps of the Death Eaters getting louder. Waiting for the perfect moment.

“I know.”

“I guess I can wait a little longer--Now!!” Simultaneously, the group all shouted, “Stupefy!!��

After a brief fight against the Death Eaters to escape the Hall of Prophecies, the group found themselves falling to what they thought was their death. At the last second, Hermoine casted Arresto Momentum to slow time for them to safely land, grunting as their bodies met the rock. Scanning their surroundings, Harry spotted an archway with an iridescent glow to it. As he moved closer, voices were heard. “Voices, can you tell what they're saying?”

Confused, Hermoine replied with what they were all thinking, “There aren’t any voices, Harry. Let’s get out of here.”

“I hear them too,” Luna spoke, staring at the arch in wonder. It was difficult to hear clearly what the voices were saying. But they grew louder with each step.

“Harry,” Hermoine pleaded, “it’s just an empty archway.” In the distance, the group heard the Death Eaters approaching. “Please, Harry.” Harry spun around with his wand raised.

“Get behind me!” They followed his order, ready to confront the oncoming threat. They unfortunately, however, were blindsided when the Death Eaters in their black smokey form attacked from behind. Grunts and gasps left the teens, Harry dropping to the ground, clutching the prophecy in his hand. About 15 seconds passed before he opened his eyes to discover he was alone.

Dread consumed him, the boy standing to find his friends. He found them several feet away and spaced out. In the hands of Death Eaters. Ginny and Luna to his right, the Weasley girl gripped at the collar by Y/n Black. Neville struggles against Bellatrix Lestrange, Ron and Hermoine manhandled by the Lestrange brothers. A dry chuckle captured Harry’s attention, watching Lucius Malfoy stroll up to where he stood.

“Did you actually believe, or were you truly naive enough to think….children stood a chance against us?” Lucius made eye contact with the wicked smile of Bellatrix, whereas he met Y/n’s vicious glare. Her hold on Ginny wasn’t as tight as the others, almost like she didn’t view the girl as a threat.

“I’ll make this simple for you, Potter,” Lucius held out his hand. “Give me the prophecy now….or watch your friends die.” Harry looked at his friends, their frightened gazes making his heart fall to his stomach.

“Don’t give it to him, Harry!” Neville shouts, only to be hushed by Bellatrix, who snaps her wand from his head to his neck forcefully.

The Boy who Lived draws his eyes to the glowing prophecy. As if to be contemplating his choices, but deep down knew what he had to do. His friends were more important. He couldn’t risk their lives over a tiny orb. Slowly, he lifted his hand and placed the object in Lucius’s awaiting one. A satisfied smirk appears on the blonde’s lips. He had succeeded in his mission.

Or so he thought.

Bright light filled the area, Harry’s eyes widening as he took in the sight of Sirius behind Lucius. Malfoy’s expression turned to one of pure shock, meeting Sirius’s angry one.

“Get away from my Godson.” And before Lucius could react, he was falling to the ground from the force of Sirius’s right hook. More bright lights entered, members of the Order arriving. Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, and Mad-Eye.

In the chaos, the prophecy was thrown from Lucius’ hand, shattering as it hit the ground in a cloud of blue-green smoke. The man was in disbelief, and fear at what consequences awaited him.

Beyond him, Y/n released her hold on Ginny Weasley, slightly pushing her away causing the girl to stumble off the rocks. At that moment she met Sirius’ eyes for the first time in nearly 20 years. Their last encounter when he ran from home at 16, and Y/n only 8.

She watched the horror appear on his face. Lingering with regret. She could see him fighting with himself on how to react, she too was fighting that battle. Tears threatened to spill from both their eyes, Y/n’s bottom lip quivering. Overwhelmed by the reunion.

Where they were on opposite sides.

His expression read, ‘I won’t fight you, cousin,” which was enough for the woman to turn on her heel and drop to the ground. Ignoring Sirius shouting her name, Y/n leaned against the rock, waiting for an opportunity to run. Above her Sirius and Harry were dueling Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange. Bellatrix was being trailed in the air by their niece, Nymphadora Tonks, her diabolical laugh echoing against the walls.

A curse flew past her, hitting the rock causing Y/n to spin around where she met Lupin’s startled eyes. “Y/n….” the tone of his voice indicated he was surprised to see her. Likely assuming she’d been someone else. The werewolf always had a soft spot for the young Black. Thinking about the times she tagged along with them in Diagon Alley. Or when Sirius brought her to the Potter house and the two played with her in their animagi form to keep her entertained.

Now here she was with the enemy. A completely different person plagued with darkness. Lupin sighed, laced with despair, “Oh, love…what’ve they done to you?” Somehow that question was enough to send Y/n into a whirlpool of rage. How dare he say those words to her. When the Order had every opportunity to remove her from the Black household. When they could’ve placed her in hiding like James and Lily. Anything, to prevent the Death Eaters from claiming her.

“What you all failed to save me from.”

Before they knew it the two were dueling. Flashes of light leaving their wands, dodging those sent by the other. Despite Y/n spending half her life in prison with little combat experience under her belt, she was keeping up with Remus quite well. He noted the woman had yet to send a killing curse his way. Come to think of it, it appeared she was avoiding it all together. Unlike her associates who were not shy to use it.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Y/n,” Remus attempted to convince her to yield. Ducking when she shot a curse at his head.

Scoffing, the woman spat, “Foolish for you to think such, Remus.” Her next attempt to get him away with a curse was more forceful, “I know how this dance between us ends, and I’d rather be sent to hell itself than be chained in Azkaban once more. So either man up and kill me, or turn away so I can get the hell out of here.”

Remus became conflicted, “You know I can’t do that.” He referred to both options. Not having the strength or heart to kill his best friend's niece whom he once adored. But also not allowing her to escape.

“Shame then,” she hissed, “I’ll try not to make this hurt.” After much struggle, where Remus had the upper hand in the dool, Y/n managed to send him flying back several feet, taking her chance to run to the nearest doorway.

“Avada Kedavra!!” Bellatrix’s voice made her feeze, turning around in time to see the green light hit their cousin straight in the chest.

It was as if time had stopped. All fighting ceased. Y/n heard a loud gasp--a scream, realizing moments later she was the one responsible for it. Hand raising to cover her mouth. Frozen as she watched Sirius fall back into the archway. Disappearing forever.

The silence was then interrupted by Harry’s wails. Held by Remus, he fought against him as though he wanted to join his Godfather. Y/n remained still. Processing what just happened.

Sirius was dead. Her sister killed him.

Y/n had to get out of there. No doubt the Aurors were alerted. They’d be arriving any second.

Witnessing Harry take off after Bellatrix, Y/n met Remus’ eyes. The man silently pleading to her, completely distraught over the death of his best friend. With James and Sirius dead and Peter’s betrayal to Voldemort, he was alone.

Y/n shook her head, unable to face him any longer. Instead of running into the main lobby of the Department of Ministries, the Death Eater looked up and allowed the black smoke to consume her, flying away from the Order. Her associates followed suit.

When the Minister and Aurors entered the lobby to the horrifying scene, they understood the future became plagued with an unavoidable truth.

The night officially marked the beginning of the Second Wizarding War.

Rain pelted against the ground, falling from the gray clouds painting the sky. Strolling down alleyways of London, three sisters in black were on a mission to locate a certain home. Hiding behind corners whenever cars and people passed by. The one leading the trio was the reason for this side quest. Meanwhile the one falling back voiced opposition. For the youngest in the middle, she was rather bored. Not caring what would come out of this meeting.

If Y/n were honest, she just hated getting her outfit soaked.

“Cissy, you can’t do this,” Bellatrix hissed, trailing after her sisters. “He can’t be trusted.”

“The Dark Lord trusts him,” Naricssa rebutted, not sparing her a glance. Y/n simply rolled her eyes.

“The Dark Lord’s mistaken.”

“Shhh,” Y/n interrupted. While she may agree with Bellatrix to some degree, she knew better than to question his judgment aloud. Anyone could be lurking.

Children’s laughter filled their ears, the sisters leaning against the brick walls until they passed. Once clear, they turned the corner and knocked on the door. Waiting for him to answer.

Instead of Snape, the trio were greeted by Wormtail--who was visibly surprised to see them on the steps of Snape’s home. Y/n gave one death glare to the man and he immediately opened the door fully to let them inside. Water droplets fell from their coats, Y/n waved her wand to dry herself, feeling satisfied with a low ‘hmm’.

Wormtail escorted them to the library, where Snape sat in a chair reading the Daily Prophet. Folding the paper, the sisters were greeted by his blank stare. “Run along, Wormtail.” With a flick of his wrist Wormtail was pushed out, door slamming in his face. Y/n smirked, overlooking Snape with a raised brow.

He matched her gaze, the two in silent conversation. Like they each had their secrets the other knew of…

In that moment Y/n thought back to the moment she and Snape reunited after her escape from Azkaban. Neither were fools to the other's facade. Both able to mask it with their talents in both Legilimency and Occlumency.

“I know your true intentions, Severus. You are not part of his cause anymore and haven’t been for fifteen years. Do not stand there and lie to me, I don’t take kindly to liars.”

“Make no mistake then, Y/n, you also have motives not aligned with the Dark Lord. You do not care who wins this battle, only that your freedom is the outcome. He’d not take kindly to your…..deception.”

“Then I guess this means you and I….have a lot to lose if we are not careful. I’ll say no word. I expect you to do the same.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

Wine was poured, Y/n and Narcissa seated in chairs while Snape and Bellatrix remained standing. The eldest sister pacing along the fireplace. Narcissa was the first to speak, “I-I-I know I am not to be here,” Pausing she shot Y/n a hesitant look, which was ignored. “The Dark Lord, himself, forbade me to speak of this--.”

“If the Dark Lord has forbidden it, you are not to speak--but it down, Bella, we mustn’t touch what isn’t ours,” Annoyed, the woman placed the object back on the mantel. Giving Snape a look of, ‘there, happy?’ He turned back to Narcissa, “As it so happens, I’m aware of your situation, Narcissa.”

“You?” Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, “The Dark Lord told you.”

Snape briefly glanced at Y/n, “Your sister doubts me.” The woman smirked.

“She doubts everyone,” she felt Bellatrix’s glare, paying no mind. “It’s not personal.”

“Understandable. Over the years I’ve played my part well--so well I’ve deceived one of the greatest wizards of all time.” Y/n sipped her wine to hide the smirk on her face.

For she knew exactly who he was referring to.

Unlike Bellatrix who simply snorted. Snape dismissed her remark, “Dumbledore is a great wizard. Only a fool would question it.”

Y/n examined her wine, acting like it was the most curious thing in the room. Rather bored by the conversation and Snape’s persistence of convincing her sisters of his motives. Bellatrix obviously had her suspicions. Narcissa, however, took the bait.

“I don’t doubt you, Severus.”

“You should be honored, Cissy,” Bellatrix told her. “As should Draco.” Of course her deranged self would see it that way. 16 year-old Draco tasked with the difficult mission to assassinate Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Punishment for Lucius for failing Voldemort too many times. The most recent being the damn prophecy he was to fetch.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel smug at the Malfoys predicament. Lucius deserved all he got. And while Narcissa may have been her sister, Y/n harbored enough anger and resentment to not feel sympathy for her. Draco was the only one innocent in the matter.

Narcissa’s face fell at Bellatrix’s words, pleading to Snape with her eyes, “He’s just a boy.”

“I cannot change the Dark Lord’s mind,” that was true. Nothing could alter Voldermort’s decision once it was made. Snape did have an idea, “But it might be possible for me to help Draco.”

That was enough for Narcissa. The woman rising from her seat, “Severus--.” She was cut off by Bellatrix.

“Swear to it. Make the unbreakable vow.” She moved toward them, circling Severus as her tone turned to mockery, “It’s just empty words.” Now Narcissa’s face read she wanted the same. Bellatrix continued, “He’ll give it his best, but when it matters most,” her chin rested on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “He’ll just slither back into his hole. Coward,” she ended as she passed him.

Y/n stared at her associate, watching his reaction carefully. It was obvious the insult poked deep in his core. Though Snape did not let it show.

“Take out your wand.”

The sisters were pleased. Visibly showing this as they looked at each other. Y/n stood from her chair, moving closer as Narcissa and Snape held each other's wrists. Bellatrix withdrew her wand, allowing the glowing strands to encompass their hands.

“Will you, Severus Snape, watch over Draco Malfoy as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wishes?”

“I will.”

Water glossed over Narcissa’s eyes, Bellatrix continued, “And will you, to the best of your abilities,” her chin rested this time on Narcissa’s shoulder, the two staring him down like a hawk. Y/n sipped her glass, leaning her head against Narcissa’s other shoulder, smirking slightly at the scene. “Protect him from harm?”

“I will.”

Bellatrix walked so she was directly in front of Snape, “And, if Draco should fail…will you yourself, carry out the deed the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?” The pause was longer, Narcissa practically shaking making Y/n move away.

Finally, Snape made the last vow, “I will.”

The glowing strands disappeared, leaving scars on the two. A permanent reminder of the promise made. To protect Draco from harm and finish the job if it came to it.

Otherwise, the Devil would visit Snape earlier than planned.

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